Chapter 59 The Last Something Real
the last something real
Hannah
There’s a weight in my bones I’m not sure I’ll ever shake.
My eyes drift open and for one delightful, disoriented moment, Mom’s alive.
She’s at home preparing to meet me for brunch in a few hours.
An urn containing her ashes isn’t on my coffee table in the living room.
I didn’t host her memorial service yesterday.
Except, none of those things are true. Just like that, I want to disappear under the covers until tomorrow…or maybe the day after…maybe forever.
Soft footsteps amble down the hall until he’s standing in the doorway. Rowan came.
I take in the fact he’s already fully dressed.
“You’re up,” he says, as I will myself off the pillow.
My smile is small but genuine. God, I’ve missed him. “When do you have to go?”
He releases a heavy breath and comes to sit beside me. “Half an hour.” I nod at the wall. “You want breakfast? I brewed you some coffee.”
I shake my head and make for the bathroom wearing nothing but his sweatshirt hanging to my thighs. Rowan watches me in the reflection of the mirror while I brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I hold his gaze as I run a comb through my hair and throw it into a ponytail.
Feeling a bit more put together, I tuck my hands in the front pocket of the hoodie and come to lean against the dresser across from him. His dark gaze rakes over me slowly—my bare feet all the way up the smooth skin of my legs. His fists clench, he looks away. Damn that honor of his.
I step closer, nudge his shoulders back. He tips his head to look at me as I set my knees on either side of his hips.
A tight puff of air pours from his nostrils when I settle my arms loosely around him. His hands find my waist, clutching the thick fabric like he’s scared what will happen if he lets them drift anywhere else.
Oceans, skies, the rarest of jewels—none of them are as captivating as his eyes. “Your eyes are my favorite blue.”
His lips curl, a dimple popping on one cheek. “Your everything is my favorite.”
Our foreheads kiss. “Thank you for coming.”
His mouth moves over mine. This man and the way he kisses me with his whole body—his whole heart surrendered to the drag of his lips down my jaw, the smooth glide of his fingers up my leg, then my spine until he finds my ponytail, giving it a firm tug to gain access to my neck.
Between kisses, Rowan groans hot, breathy curses down my throat. He pulls at the neckline of my sweatshirt looking for more skin, more places for his tongue and teeth to claim me. I’m already his but I’d let him mark me however he wanted.
“Tell me, sunshine. Tell me this is what you want right now.”
I draw back, concern filling his eyes like I might actually stop this. He wouldn’t question it if I did. But he’s wrong. “I need this.”
My fingers curl under the hem of my sweatshirt, ready to peel it off, when he yanks the fabric back down. “No. Leave it on.”
Our mouths meld together again, smiles and tongues and heat. I rid him of his shirt and run my hands over his skin. All tanned flesh, black ink and scars, the dips and curves of his muscles are carved to perfection. Hard and soft in all the right places.
“I miss you,” I murmur against his lips.
“I’m here now, baby.” He sets my hand over my heart, his palm resting on top. “But I’m always here.” Then he flips our hold so I feel his own heartbeat. “And this still belongs to you.”
The words tumble around madly in my chest, race through my veins completely out of my control until I can’t contain them a second longer. “I love you.”
My shoulders dip in relief, but I tense a moment later. It feels so good to say it, but I didn’t want it to come out like that when he’s leaving so soon. “I’m sorry, I know it’s the wrong time and I know I said we shouldn’t—”
He steals my words on a hard, searing kiss. “It’s never the wrong time to say it.”
Rowan takes my face in his hands. God, the way he looks at me like I’m his and he’s mine and our inevitable goodbye is inconsequential—it’s beautiful.
“I’ve been in love with you for months,” he says.
“There’s no logic or reason to it and it shouldn’t make sense, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.
I love you. And I don’t care how or when or why you say it.
I wanna keep saying it because it’s real, Hannah.
This is real. The last something real we have left because anything that could possibly come after—the good, the bad, the terrifying—none of it scares me.
At the end of the day, I’m still gonna love you.
You’re it for me, baby. Have been since the night I met you. ”
“I don’t wanna say goodbye anymore,” I confess.
He dashes a stray tear off my cheek. “It’s not goodbye. Never has been.”
We’re kissing again, feverish and fierce until my entire body is on fire.
I rip our lips apart and push to my feet, fighting for air as I slide my panties off.
His lips are swollen, pupils dark and blown.
“Tell me again.” My mouth is back on his before he can answer, and I pin his legs between mine, pulling at the waistband of his jeans to free him from his boxers. “Tell me you love me.”
My hand wraps around the length of him, his head falling back as he breathes, “I love you so much.” I pump him once and he groans. “So goddamn much, baby.”
He glides a finger through the slickness between my thighs. My chest heaves, breath caught in my lungs—it’s been too long and I’m already so close.
“You. I wanna feel you,” I demand, shoving his hand away to position him at my entrance.
Mouth open against his, I sink down onto him, slow and savoring. He fills me to the max, and the sensation of having him back inside me makes me instantly heady, dizzy with want.
I let the words coast across his lips again. “I love you.”
His smile lifts, beard tickling my face. Broad palms splay over my upper thighs and around to my ass, guiding my hips to rock. And I do, gently at first, unhurried because I don’t want this to end. I want him here. With me. Just like this. Forever.
But then he kisses me again, tongues tangling, and I moan over his soft grunts of pleasure every time I ease my pelvis back and roll forward. I run my fingers through his hair, he hums, and we’re both right there, moments away from falling off the cliff.
My vision blurs, as I lose myself in the feel of it all. Too lost to take what my body screams for. “Rowan, I—I need—ahh! More, I need more, please, I can’t—”
The flesh of my hips puckers between his strong fingers. “God, baby,” he groans. “You’re the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
Rowan doles out praise in a way that feels like absolute truth—period, end of sentence. I’m not naked, his hoodie dwarfs my upper half, and I’m in yesterday’s makeup. But he tells me I’m beautiful and I believe it. He tells me I’m strong, I’m a fighter, that I’m not broken. And I believe it.
So when he leans in close to whisper a life-altering promise in my ear, “You’re my forever, Hannah James,” I believe that too.
He keeps one hand braced on my hip while the other seeks out mine. “I’ve got you. Always.”
My limbs turn to putty, heart beating out of my chest. Rowan uses his own strength to steer my body exactly where it needs to go.
He rolls my hips in circles, pumps me up and down.
As my climax closes in, he picks up the pace.
With his help, I ride him through wave after wave of my release and then his.
Through every second, he never lets go of my hand.
I walk him to his rental car in my driveway ten minutes later, my palm still wrapped inside his.
And even though there’s no clear picture of when we’ll see each other next, we don’t say goodbye. Only I love you.
Three months have passed since I was last here with Mom. J&J’s was our place. So much ours, I’ve been sitting in my car for fifteen minutes wondering if I should let this tradition go. Let Saturday brunch be a thing that was ours for a time—a season that’s ended—and move on.
Customers come and go through the main doors at a predictable pace, a constant silhouette of activity bustling through the front windows. It’s been so long I doubt our usual booth has even been left open for me. This is stupid.
I shake my head decisively and turn the key in the ignition, put the car in reverse. My phone rings and I halt, shifting back to park. Boulder Police Department flashes across my home screen.
On a deep breath, I answer, “Hello?”
“Ms. James, this is Officer Montgomery. Do you have a minute?”
My thick swallow pulses loud in my ears. “Yes, sir.”
“Great. I wanted to let you know we’ve arrested Daniel Cartwright, and he’s currently detained in the county jail.”
“Oh, I…wow,” I stammer. “That was fast.”
“It was, but the security camera footage was evidence enough to file charges. Mr. Cartwright didn’t deny any of the allegations.
” Relief floods my chest. “I expect this case to be resolved quickly. Barring anything unforeseen, he’ll likely serve a jail sentence.
I can’t say for sure how long, but I’ll keep you informed as this moves through the court. ”
I blink up at the roof of the car. “Thank you, Officer.”
“No word yet on whether or not he’ll post bail, but if he does I’ll reach out so you can come down and file a restraining order.”
I only nod, but he hears the acceptance anyway.
“And, ma’am?”
“Yes?”
He sighs. “I want to commend you for how hard you fought. Not only in the parking lot, but in having the courage to come down to the station and report it.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “If you were my daughter, I’d be damn proud of you.”
A pause and a whisper. “Thank you, sir.”
“Not many women are in situations where someone like Mr. Shaw can rush in to help. It’s a very sad but true fact in cases like these. You’re very lucky he was there, Ms. James.”
“Yes, I know.”
Relative to what other women experience, I am lucky someone was there, and I’ll never take that for granted.
But Rowan and me? There’s no luck involved when it comes to us.
I’m tempted to say as much, but that’s for Rowan and I to hold onto for ourselves.
Let the world call us what they want—lucky, a spark of chance with a side of coincidence. We know better.
My gaze drifts to the photo booth pictures he installed on my dash months ago. The images that stare back at me in all my comings and goings, day in and day out. His arms wrapped around me, my smile as full as my heart.
Like the universe wants to prove a point, a text comes in from the man himself the moment I hang up with Officer Montgomery.
Rowan
Hey guess what?
I still love you.
Me
It’s like you’re obsessed with me or something.
Rowan
…or something
A watery laugh bubbles out of me. The five-years-ago version of Hannah who heard those words for the first time never could have suspected what would come next.
Her soldier would find her again and he’d nestle himself so deep inside her heart the mere idea of having one day shy of forever with him would be unthinkable.
Rowan
I forgot to mention before I left…
The lake house is yours anytime you want to use it.
Me
Let me guess…
I’ll need a passport to track down the spare key. Emergency flare in case I get lost?
Rowan
Cute
Me
Just send me the map. X marks the spot.
Rowan
How’s that flood light working out for ya? Bright enough?
Me
Quality product. Shoddy installation. Thinking about filing a complaint.
Rowan
Supervisor’s on vacation for the foreseeable future.
Me
That’s a shame. I was prepared to offer valuable compensation for his efforts.
Rowan
Hmm…
Care to give me an idea of what you were thinking? Might be able to take your request up the chain of command.
Me
I have this really killer hot cocoa recipe I think he’d like. Then…
I’d challenge him to a chess match where I’d let him win…really give his ego a boost. Then…
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, delaying my next reply.
Me
He’d be really sweaty from all that hard labor so I’d offer to let him use my shower…
Then…
Rowan
Hannah. Don’t.
Me
But I’m not done.
Rowan
I’m on a plane, sitting next to a kid watching Toy Story. You need to stop.
Me
That’s wild, I was just getting to the part about toys…
Rowan
HANNAH!
Me
Fine. How about this…
I love you too.
Nerves tumble around in my belly as I push inside the entrance to J&J’s.
I know weekends won’t ever look the same again, but my memories of Mom here are too special to give up on this place. Maybe I’ll sit at the dine-in counter instead of our usual table—familiar but not overwhelming.
“Hannah, you’re here!” the hostess exclaims. She rounds her podium and wraps me in a hug. “We’ve missed you and we’re so sorry to hear about Lydia.”
“Thank you. I think I’ll just sit at the counter today.”
“Oh, no need. Your table’s ready for you. The rest of your party’s already here.”
My brows twitch. “The rest of my—huh?”
She nods, grinning. “They’ve been here awhile.”
I bob my head pretending I know what’s going on. “Right, okay.”
She points me to the back, and I weave through the restaurant until Mom and my table comes into view. My breath catches somewhere between my throat and my chest.
Kristen and John. Richard. Artie, Tom, and Cecil. They’re all here.
“You made it!” Kristen shoves her husband over, patting the seat beside her.
I shuffle into the booth, slack jawed. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Having brunch with you,” Artie replies.
“Goddammit, Artie, at least trim that thing!” Cecil shifts his flatware away from the edge of the table where Artie’s beard has gone rogue. I doubt he’s taken clippers to it in weeks.
Artie runs a proud hand down the full length of the white masterpiece. “Fucker’s just jealous he wasn’t asked to play Santa.”
Tom chimes in next. “The gig for the Children’s Hospital? That’s two months away.”
A conspiratorial wink at me and a middle finger at his buddies, Artie doesn’t say a word. My job doesn’t officially start at BCH until after the new year, but I volunteered to arrange a small Santa’s Workshop event for the kids who will spend Christmas there.
They carry on with their bickering, Richard now an honorary member of the crew, it seems. It’s the sweetest sound.
Kristen gives me a nudge. “How are you doing?” John’s kind eyes meet mine over her shoulder.
My nose burns a little as I scan the table, gaze pausing on each of my friends for a beat before moving to the next. My family. I may not have given them such a title before today, but it’s beautifully clear now what a gift they are.
We’re an odd bunch. A little unlikely. No shared genetic code to speak of. Yet, I become devastatingly—wonderfully—aware of two things at once.
First—I’ll miss my mom every day for the rest of my life.
And, the second—I look back to my friend, no tears, no masks, and say, “I’m okay.”